The Fool's Errand
by nintendosegasonyguy
Summary: Takes place after the game ends. NO promises I will continue this. Just wrote it on a whim. Hope you enjoy!


Perhaps the incident was for the best, but almost nobody knew it. Or perhaps it wasn't, and would just be remembered as the senseless bloodshed it had appeared to be. No one could really be sure of anything in Arcadia Bay. Not yet, anyway.

The white screen blurred in the darkness of the dorm, barely lighting the open scrapbook with its few loose photos on the empty couch. It had been a couple of hours since the funeral, but every sensation still felt muted. Dulled. Almost unbearable,

Despite herself, she had smiled when she saw it. She couldn't quite tell if it was a goodbye, a dash of life's irony, or both. It looked like the same one as before. A picture of it glowing in the orange sunset, resting innocently on the brown wooden surface would've made her weep. But no, there hadn't been any tears. Any real thoughts behind those vacant eyes. The same mouth curled upwards before had now stood agape and upset on her face, as she had sat in the back of that car. Joyce had begged her to stay the night with company, fearing her solitude, but she had insisted she return to her room and be alone. "For how long?" "As long as it takes." Before the funeral, they had all met in that same kitchen. David insisted she tell them all the details of what happened. Many tears had fallen over that conversation.

She hadn't really talked to anyone about it, not even her mom and dad. She told the cops all they needed to know right after it happened and they thankfully gave her no further trouble. At the funeral, someone would approach her and express condolences, and she'd thank them, and that was basically it. A few people who didn't go sent her texts resembling a foster parent's attempt to sooth an unruly child. People thankfully understood the fact they couldn't really understand, and Max had never been the easiest to just strike up a conversation with; she usually did that, after all. Joyce and David were the only exceptions. Well, there was also someone else whom tried…

As Max Caulfield sat in total silence, in total isolation, in near complete darkness, Chloe Price lie in the earth several miles away.

Her little distraction was not working. Nothing on Youtube or Netflix or DeviantArt or Fanfiction appealed to her. She tried music, she tried anime, she even tried funny cat videos, but nothing quelled the floating numbness perched on her shoulders, wearing her down to scribbles in her diary. Tears threw everything out of focus. Before she could let them fall, she grunted and stood up from her chair, nearly knocking it over in her haste. She strode over to the end of the couch, throwing the heavy binder and casting several pictures about on the floor. She grabbed her guitar and started strumming. She couldn't remember any of the finger exercises her childhood teacher had taught her in that moment and just started with a couple haphazard attempts at E's and C's and D's and G's and A's…when her notes kept buzzing, she took a deep breath and stopped, letting the pain splash onto the carpet in drops. She sniffed as she attempted "Crosses," a song she'd been hopelessly trying to get down for months, but to no avail. Even her own basic version of it, which she freely admitted to herself was not even close to the real thing, kept derailing into a mess time and again. After barely a minute, all the bitter non-feeling seized up into a white rage and the guitar with a noisy bang crashed to the floor, scattering those photos even more.

She gasped and wheezed as everything swept her at once. Every memory, every embrace, every look, every kiss…She fell onto her side, rolling into a fetal position and gently rocking back and forth on the cushion. Time unraveled just it had done before, and for a time, she didn't know who she was or why she was crying. It was a bitter, nasty breakdown, which would defy the expectations of anyone who knew and loved this poor, defenseless girl. She hated herself, she hated Blackwell, she hated Nathan, she hated time, she hated life itself. She screamed into the cushions over and over again, biting into it like an animal so hard that white stuffing spilled into the cool evening air. She punched the same spot until her knuckles were red and sore. Panting, she looked straight ahead into nothing. Eventually, her monitor fell asleep, and everything went black and featureless. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim moonlight flooding through her window.

Time seemed to stand still. She didn't even realize she passed out. When she came to, it was still night outside and she was vaguely aware of some drool on the side of her mouth, but a disruptive buzzing pierced her ears. It took her a second to realize it was her phone. She didn't get up. She stared out the window as the rhythms surged through her computer desk. It finally stopped. A few seconds later, the phone gave off one shake and there was silence once more. Sighing, she slowly got up.

 _If I had a type writer, I think I'd write "Why me, why me, why me" over and over again…_

She carefully side-stepped through her room, picked her phone up, and flicked the screen on. 11:17 p.m. _6 messages, 3 missed calls._ She bit her lip as she checked who called her. One each from her mom and dad earlier that afternoon, and the last one…

From Warren.

Of course.

The venom wasn't completely out of her system, but she knew she'd regret it tomorrow if she didn't answer her messages. She sifted through them.

Mom, 10:47 p.m.: _Maxine, your father and I know it's late but we just want you to know we are thinking of you! Call as soon as you need to talk. We'll always here for you._

Max, 11:18 p.m.: _I know. I luv you guys just give me tonight. Well talk later, I promise_

Kate, 8:47 p.m.: _I dont know what to say.. I wish I did. Really. Tbh this is when my family would expect me to start talking to you about heaven and how Chloe is in a better place, but I'm not about to insult you by doing that. I learned a long time ago that's not what most people want to hear after.. you know. Anyway plz talk to me if you need someone. Youve always been there for me before!_

Max, 11:20 p.m.: _Thx Kate. I'll be in touch ; you still owe me a cup of tea!_

Victoria, 6:34 p.m.: _Hey I kinda forgot I blocked your number before. That was stupid, I shouldnt have. Look I know I can be a bitch or whatever but I dont hate you Max. I really am sorry that your best friend died_

Max, 11:22 p.m.: _Thx. Water under the bridge._

Victoria responded immediately after.

Victoria, 11:23 p.m.: _Good um so where are u?_

Max, 11:24 p.m.: _In my dorm_

Victoria, 11:24 p.m.: _Do you need company? Im in mine_

Max, 11:24 p.m.: _No I'm fine but thanks._

The last three messages were from Warren.

Warren, 5:54 p.m.: _Hey, Mad Max…um I don't want to bother you. Im sure today has been terrible for you. I'm so sorry about what happened. I cant even imagine what you're going through. For what it's worth I just want you to know that you're still one of my best friends and that I'm here for you. Always._

Warren, 7:20 p.m.: _I shouldn't have called you Mad Max, should I?_

Warren, 11:01 p.m.: _Max? Again I hate to keep pestering you but I just really need to know you're okay_

 _God, sometimes he sounds like a dog, he craves so much attention…_

Max mentally slapped herself for such a comment. She knew that Warren, of all people, meant well.

He had obviously been very uncomfortable at the funeral. He didn't know Chloe this time, so how could he not have been? Standing by her, nervously quaking in his suit, there had seemed to be so many things he had wanted to do and say but knew it wasn't his place to. All he knew was that his friend Max was going through one of the most difficult moments in her life. Yet he had still been very respectful during the proceedings. The two had exchanged a few words after the service and a hug before Max left, but that was all. Max didn't know how she should feel about that, considering it was the first time she had seen or heard of him since…

She decided to take a chance.

Max, 11:26 p.m.: _Hey_

Warren, 11:26 p.m.: _Hey yurself_

Warren, 11:26 p.m.: _*Yourself. What's going on?_

Max, 11:27 p.m.: _Nothing. Sorry I missed your call I was asleep_

Warren, 11:27 p.m.: _Shit I didn't wake you did I?_

Max, 11:27 p.m.: _No. I needed to wake up anyway_

Warren, 11:28 p.m.: _Ok…are you ok?_

Max, 11:29 p.m.: _I honestly dont know how to respond to that question_

Warren, 11:29 p.m.: _Is there anything I can do?_

Max, 11:30 p.m.: _I don't know_

Silence. She set her phone down. She didn't know what she wanted or what she would do.

Thoughts of the blue butterfly again. Remembering the clear sense of hope it gave her when she first laid eyes on its wings swaying in the gentle afternoon breeze…

Slowly, the reality of her sitting in a vacant, pitch black room dawned on her. It suddenly seemed…pathetic. There were people both far away and up close that knew her and wanted to help her, and here she was away from all of it. And hell, she DID feel better after having her little episode…

She picked her phone up.

Max, 11:34 p.m.: _Cannibal Holocaust_

Warren, 11:35 p.m.: _Great movie. What about it?_

Max, 11:35 p.m.: _Bring it. I never got to watch it_

She paused and remembered something.

Max, 11:35 p.m.: _Did you get your flash-drive back from Dana?_

Warren, 11:35 p.m.: _Yeah how did you know she borrowed it? But ok. Gimme a few minutes and I'll be right over_

Warren, 11:36 p.m.: _Um what's your room number? I've never been to your room_

A smirk crept onto Max's mouth.

Max, 11:37 p.m.: _You know I could be mean and just not tell you_

Warren, 11:38 p.m.: _Oh please don't! I don't want to get caught in the girls dorm afterhours from knocking on every door in the hall!_

Max, 11:38 p.m.: _Oh come on science guy. You could do this, BUT if you really want my help, text me and I'll walk out my door_

Warren, 11:39 p.m.: _Ugh you're a real smartass sometimes_

Max, 11:39 p.m.: _;)_

Warren, 11:40 p.m.: _Lol there's the Max I know_

Max smiled for the first time in days. He was right. She was starting to feel like herself again, like she could find something in this town to enjoy again. It was the first time she felt she could really relax in a LONG, not-exactly-linear time.

She wasn't too sure why Warren, though, knowing full well spending time with him, especially this late, would only add fuel to the fire she knew fully well was blazing. But for the moment, all that didn't seem important. No more drama, at least for a while. Just a bit of relief.

Everything felt good for a second, before Max realized the messy state her room must have been in after her fit. She got up and used the glow of her phone to illuminate the room as she walked to the light switch.

 _Let there be light!_

 _And near blindness!_

Rubbing her eyes, she blinked several times and peered over her room. Pictures littered the scene and her poor guitar lay face-down. Lisa's decaying body stood like a dying beacon on one side of the room.

Max sighed and picked her guitar up. She noticed a small dent on its face. _Great, that's gonna screw up the fretboard_ …She set it against the couch.

Only the pictures remained. She started to feel all the energy and excitement sap from her limbs, but gritting her teeth, she forced herself to the floor to pick every single one up, not daring to look at any of them. Soon, she held a nice stack in her hands and placed it face down at her computer desk. She walked back towards the couch to wait for her friend and maybe play around on her phone, but noticed another white square placed upon it. Instinctually, she walked over and picked it up to look at it. Her eyes immediately widened and gently moistened yet again.

Several moments past. Her gaze could've burned the image to ashes and it would be lost forever, but that's not what happened. Nothing happened. Max Caulfield just stood in the middle of the room looking at a photo.

Before midnight, she got the text and stepped outside her room.

A crumbled piece of crisp paper lay in her waste basket.


End file.
